


Follow Me

by TheArtificialDane



Series: The Brightest Timeline [24]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-29 03:14:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19821397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtificialDane/pseuds/TheArtificialDane
Summary: “So what does it feel like to be post season 11?”“I figured I kinda peaked with the whole Miss Vanjie going viral, but that shit ain’t got nothing on how fucked up strange it is to have strangers all up in your business, not for a meme, but for your relationship.”





	Follow Me

**Author's Note:**

> A "Follow Me" WOW video following Branjie in october of 2019.

_ A bundle is lying underneath a white duvet in a big bed, white pillows stacked around it. The bed has a brown wooden headboard, the walls painted beige. Two night tables in light wood stand on either side of the bed, one of them stacked with books that goes higher than the lamp. A blue painting of an ocean is hanging above the bed, the beige curtains are drawn, sunlight shining in. _

_ Suddenly, the bundle sits up, Vanjie appearing from underneath. He throws himself out of bed, his phone left between the sheets. Vanjie is wearing a pink shirt and grey pyjama hotpants. _

_ “That’s not real! Shit.” Vanjie grabs his phone, his hand ruffling his hair. “That was kinda Linda Blair.” _

_ Vanjie gets back into the bed, pulling the covers over him again, clearly pretending to go back to sleep. “I don’t know, I don’t” Vanjie fidgets with the cover. “I can’t really fake.”  _

_ Vanjie pulls the covers over his head, a muffled voice coming out. “Wait, wait,” Vanjie peaks out. “How do you want me to-?” He stops for a moment and sits up. “This is horrible.” Vanjie gets out of bed and throws his hands over his head. _

_ “Brock! You win!” Vanjie yells down the hall. “I can’t do it, okay! I can't do no fake ass sleeping beauty!” _

_ A voice calls from down the hall. “Told you that you couldn’t act for shit!” _

_ “That fucking asshole.” Vanjie rolls his eyes, and smiles. “So what we gonna do instead?” _

///

Vanjie spits into the sink, quickly rinsing his mouth before he puts his toothbrush away. Brooke’s side of the sink was neatly organized, a single cup with a toothbrush, his shaver, his hairbrush, and the facewash he used, while Vanjie’s looked like a warzone, his collection of colognes taking over a quarter of the space.

They’re in the bathroom, shooting B roll, and Vanjie is acutely aware of everything around him. When Jason had messaged him about WOW wanting to follow him around for an entire day, Vanjie had hesitated at first. He loved working with WOW, trusted them more than he did many others, but to let someone into the home that he and Brooke shared, the home they had only just started to build together, felt a little weird.

“Y’all wanna see the bathroom too?”

The camera man shook his head, and Vanjie nodded.

“Cool. Cool. Cool cool cool.”

///

_ “Watcha doing?” _

_ The camera shoots over Vanjie’s shoulder, as they walk into what is clearly a living room. The walls are dove grey, everything else in kept in very minimum, bachelor esque stainless steel and glass, the main focus on the room a giant TV, and a couch that Brooke is on. He’s laying down, his long sweat clad legs stretched over the armrest and dangling off the end. His chest is bare, a laptop open on it. A grey cat is curled up in the space between Brooke’s shoulder and the grey cushion, napping away. _

_ “Emails about merch.” _

_ “You all up in Steve’s shit again?” Vanjie leans over the armrest, and Brooke turns his head up, the two of them exchanging brief pecks, which makes Brooke smile, his face breaking at the brief contact.  _

_ Vanjie pulls back, and makes eye contact with the camera, wiggling his eyebrows. “Brooke is kind of a control freak.” Vanjie smirks, and Brooke huffs.  _

_ “I’m not, I just-” _

_ “Likes everything real neat and dandy.” Vanjie snorts, ruffling Brooke’s hair. “He cute like that.” _

_ “If you’re going to make fun of me, you can film somewhere else.” Brooke sits up, and Vanjie drops down on the armrest, the cat running off, tail high.  _

_ “Yeah you better run Henry! Look at what you done and did.”  _

_ “You leave your son alone.” Brooke puts his arm on the back of the couch, and Vanjie dumps down, crawling underneath Brooke’s arm. _

_ “Didn’t know I’d been pregnant.” _

_ “He’s adopted.” _

_ Vanjie smirks, and grabs the top of Brooke’s computer, turning it so he can look. _

_ “You doing anything cool?” _

_ “Just merch. For Werq the World.” _

_ “Ah.” Vanjie nods, before he looks at the camera. “Brooke be going all exclusive. His dumb ass is making special pins for the trip. Can you believe that?” _

_ “People like collectables.” _

_ “And you like the prices.”  _

_ Brooke laughs and the camera cuts away, the two of them arguing in as it follows Henry, who has escaped to the window still. _

///

Vanjie opened his wardrobe, the sliding door making a ritz sound. It’s a big glass closet, covering an entire wall of their bedroom. “This side is mine.” Vanjie gestured for the camera. “That side is Brock’s”. Vanjie’s side is an explosion of color, pinks, purples, bright yellows and reds, and Vanjie can’t help but smile. Apollo is sleeping on the bed.

“If you see anything nice in here, it’s mine.” Vanjie laughed, Apollo perking up a little before he goes back to sleep, his fur getting spread all over Brooke’s pillow.

“I’m kinda like Carrie Bradshaw you know, I like my coins where I can see ‘em!” 

Vanjie shows off a few of his clothes, Balenchiaga, Gucci, Versace and Prada hanging side by side. Luxury shopping had become one of his biggest hobbies, his first proper paychecks post Drag Race of course spent on the apartment, but unlike Brooke who insists on saving- a trait that is one of the most boring things about his boyfriend - Vanjie likes to spend.

“Is it hot or cold outside?” Vanjie looks at the camera man, who just shrugs, so he picks a white tank top, the heat of L.A almost unbearable with proper clothes on. “And the most important part of any day.” Vanjie smirked, picking up his cologne. “Look nice, smell fresh, keep them pearly whites pearly. I’m a true Purto Rican. If you don’t smell good when someone comes up to ya, you got a problem.”

“So what are the plans for today?”

“The plan?” Vanjie laughed. “You think I got one of those? I ain’t even had breakfast yet.”

///

_ It’s a sunny day in L.A, Brooke and Vanjie walking side by side, Brooke’s arm around Vanjie’s shoulder. Vanjie holds the lease of a little honey colored dog, Riley yipping at everything. Brooke is wearing a black sweater and long pants, a red cap on his head, while Vanjie is in a white tank, black hotpants and crispy white sneakers. _

_ “Look!” Vanjie holds up an extra large iced coffee, Starbucks logo smack dack in the middle. “Look, he didn’t even ask me my name or nothing, he just wrote down Miss Vanjie, and look! Bitch even spelled it right. That’s a true fucking Judy.” _

_ Brooke snorts, a smile on his lips. “It’s almost like we come here whenever we’re home.” Brooke took a sip of his own, the pair sitting down at a sidewalk table. _

_ “You acting like we ever home.”  _

_ “We’re not exactly the best at keeping food in the house.” Brooke opens a brown paper bag, the starbucks logo getting torn in half, two croissants and a berry parfait showing up.  _

_ “So what is the plan for today?” Brooke smiles as he takes the yoghurt. “Before Mickey’s?” _

_ Vanjie scratches his hair, his phone coming out of his pocket as he quickly thumbs through it. “I got an appointment with Marco.” _

_ “For your Halloween costume?” _

_ “Mmh.” Vanjie smiled. “And Willam asked me on his podcast.” _

_ Brooke took a bite of his pastry, his cup of coffee steaming hot on the table.  _

_ “How about you boo boo?” _

///

_ How about you boo boo? _

Brooke had tried, he really had, but he couldn’t keep his face straight anymore, a laugh escaping him. “I can’t do this.”

“What the fuck you mean asshole?” Vanjie sat up straight, looking over the rim of his sunglasses.

“This just,” Brooke covered his mouth, a smile still playing on his lips. “All of this feels beyond artificial.” Brooke gestured to the camera, the camera man laughing a little as well. 

“Didn’t you guys spend 6 weeks locked up at Drag Race?” The camera is lowered, and Brooke looked over at the camera man, who thankfully doesn’t look angry at fact that he just ruined the shoot.

“We did.” Brooke took another sip of his coffee. “But I don’t remember being forced not to pretend to know what my boyfriend is doing.” 

Vanjie smiled, and Brooke felt his heart clench a little. It was early October, the two of them dating for over a year and more than 6 months where they could actually call themselves partners without VH1 crawling up their asses, and yet, Vanjie still lit up like the sun whenever Brooke called him his boyfriend, like he still didn’t fully believe it was his life, their life, even after they had moved in together in the late summer of 2019.

“Well you better pretend, Papi.” Vanjie kicked Brooke gently under the table. “You gotta do it for the fans.” 

“Fine.” Brooke rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ll do what I can,” he pointed his spoon at Vanjie, a teasing glint in his eyes. “but you can’t crack me up on purpose. Okay?”

“On purpose!” Vanjie laughed, kicking him under the table. “Bitch I ain’t doing shit on purpose. I be cracking you up, down, over and under every single day just cause I’m motherfucking hilarious. Now get it together Celine Dion.”

///

_ “So what does it feel like to be post season 11?” _

_ Vanjie is in an Uber, the camera filming on him and out the window, the streets of L.A going by. _

_ “Strange?” Vanjie smiles. “Overwhelming. Fucked up. Like the Upside Down. You pick, it fits every damn description in the dictionary. I thought I saw the world after season 10, but now I’ve been all over. London, Europe, Australia, Mexico, you know they even wanted to book me in Hawaii! Home of Lilo and motherfucking Stitch! That shit’s wild man.”  _

_ Vanjie leans back in the black car seat.  _

_ “I figured I kinda peaked with the whole Miss Vanjie going viral, but that shit ain’t got nothing on how fucked up strange it is to have strangers all up in your business, not for a meme, but for your relationship.” _

_ “Is that something that happens a lot?” _

_ Vanjie raises a brow. “People with cameras wanting to know all about which way I take a dick?”  _

_ The camera man laughs, and Vanjie smiles. _

_ “Sometimes.” _

///

_ “Marco!” _

_ “Polo!”  _

_ Marco Marco’s workshop is messy in the way only creative spaces are. Two seamstresses are working in the background, sewing machines, wigs, sparkles and glitter all scattered around while the walls are lined with rolls with neon fabric by the yard. _

_ Vanjie lifts his arm, Marco pinning a piece of dark green fabric in the shoulder. _

_ “God I love this bitch.” _

_ Marco laughs, taking a pin from his mouth as he looks in the mirror. Vanjie is wearing a dark green dress, the skirt fanned out with glittering panels, latex gloves in green on Vanjie’s arms. _

_ “I told you I could do it.” _

_ “Never doubted you!” Vanjie moves, looking at himself from every angle. He makes eye contact with the camera. “Marco is doing an actual good version of my MILF.” _

_ Marco snorts, the man barely catching himself. “Yours wasn’t that bad.” _

_ “That’s cause that HD didn’t catch me correctly Mama.” Vanjie laughs. “My concept was sickening,” Vanjie flips an invisible wig with his hand. “Execution is still out for the debate,” Vanjie shrugs “so Imma take my revenge on Halloween night like a real spooky ho. Show up at Mickeys and BAM!” Vanjie kicks. _

_ “Stand still-” _

_ “There she is, dropped dead and ready for the runwa- Ow!” Vanjie holds his side. “Bitch you just stabbed me.” _

_ Marco laughs, the needle in his hand held away from Vanjie’s body.  _

_ “I told you to stand still.” _

///

To say that Vanjie was exhausted, was an understatement, and yet, here he was, fiddling with the keys to get into his apartment after his third Uber ride of the day. He had taped with Alaska and Willam, his stomach hot the entire time, his mind racing a thousand miles an hour as he kept thinking of something, anything, to say to be funny. They had watched episode 11 of season 3, the two queens asking him on Race Chasers to comment on “RuPaul’s Hair Extravaganza” and how his drag mom did.

Vanjie finally opened the door, slipping inside with the camera just behind him, the heady scent of food hitting him.

“.. Brock? You home?” Vanjie knew Brooke had had his own obligations that day, his boyfriend hilariously bad at relaxing unless someone forced him to. Vanjie had fully expected Brooke to be gone, yet the light was on in the kitchen, and when they walked in, Brooke was standing at the stove, a glass of wine out as he stirred a pot of what looked like pasta sauce.

“You cooked?”

“Isn’t that what dreams are made of?” Brooke was already pouring two extra glasses, and Vanjie realised that the table had been set. One for him, one for Brooke and one for the camera man.

“I didn’t make ramen noodles, but I hope it’s better than Uber Eats.” Brooke smiled, and if the camera hadn’t been there, Vanjie would have pulled him to the bedroom by his belt, sauce be damned.

///

_ “Y’all ready for this?” Vanjie opened a door. “Welcome,” he flipped a switch, the light turning on. “To my drag room!” _

_ The room is big, bigger than both the bedroom and the living room, a red line of tape going exactly down the middle, splitting the room in two. It’s clear what belongs to who, Brooke’s side filled with beaded gowns, dance costumes, tutus and pageant prizes side by side. Everything was neatly organised and put away, most of it in garment bags and hung according to length, cut and color. Vanjie’s on the other hand, looked like the dormroom of a college teen who moonlighted as a sugar baby, fishnet tights, big gold chains, stripper heels and miniskirts so short they could be called belts spread everywhere.  _

_ “Brock!” Vanjie is digging through a pile of clothes. “You seen my titites?!” _

_ Brooke shows up at the door, leaning against the frame with a red bull in hand, another one with a straw in it clearly for Vanjie. “Why would I know where your tits are?” _

_ “Cause you love me?” _

_ Brooke snorts, and takes a drink. “I don’t think my gay love for you comes with a built in titty radar.” _

_ Vanjie laughs, and takes the can Brooke is offering him. “II'll find them. It’s all part of the process Mama.” Vanjie smiles “Everybody needs a lil mess every now and then.” _

///

“How much did you bring?” Brooke picked up Vanjie’s suitcase, throwing it in the back of the Uber that his boyfriend had ordered. Brooke was wearing a freshly ironed white shirt, Vanjie doing it in full drag makeup since Brooke hadn’t bothered to himself.

“Just the essentials!” 

“Just the essential for an entire season of Drag Race.”

“Don’t you dare come for my 46 bathing suits baby.”

Vanjie climbed in, and Brooke took the front seat, Vanjie chatting away to the camera about the last year of their lives. 

Brooke took out his phone, sneaking a picture over his shoulder to upload to his Instagram story, Vanjie looking absolutely right in a big blonde wig and a new lip. Brooke loved visiting Mickey’s when Vanjie performed, Morgan always saving him a front seat, the queen even kicking people out of the seat Brooke had started to call his own in ‘respect of the current reigning’ as Morgan always said. It was nice to just go out as Brock sometimes, and tonight, Brooke was even happier that he could go undercover, only the most hardcore fans recognising him as they made their way backstage.

It all went by in a blur, everyone flocking around them, queens and fans alike all adoring Vanjie, their sisters all joking and laughing with her, pulled in by Vanjie’s natural magnetism. 

///

_ Mickey’s is dark, a typical club with a small stage and a runway, silver curtains blocking off the backstage. People are sitting in rows, everyone waiting with anticipation, and then, Vanjie comes out, the crowd screaming for her as she starts her number. She’s electric on stage, money thrown at her as she performs, Vanjie dancing like her life depends on it. She’s the center of attention, a sensation with no bounds, and it’s clear that she’s beyond adored by her public. _

_ “Vanjie is special.” The camera films Brooke, who’s standing outside, intercutting it with footage of Vanjie dancing, a cigarette between his fingers. “I never want to do what he does, couldn’t even if I tried. He’s unique, one of a kind. He’s unapologetically authentic, and he inspires me every single day.” _

_ Vanjie does a death drop, the performance ending as the crowd stands up to clap. _

///

Vanjie breathed hard, her body shaking as the energy of a good performance left her. She had just picked herself up, the stagehands rushed to grab the money by the handfuls, showing it in champagne buckets. The crowd was still clapping, but Vanjie only heard one voice above all else.

Vanjie looked over the crowd, her eyes locking on Brooke, who was standing by the side of the stage. He was gorgeous, his smile running from ear to ear, his eyes shining with pride, and Vanjie felt a rush through her body, Brooke’s approval like the very best drug. Brooke opened his arms, Vanjie running to him with a smile on her face, Brooke lifting her off the stage, their lips meeting in a kiss, Vanjie’s hands filled with dollar bills as she held Brooke’s face.

  
  



End file.
